Makoto generally liked cats. They were clean animals, they didn't tend to bother you when you didn't want to be bothered, and they slept nearly all day long. All in all, if he ever actually wanted a pet, it would have been a cat.
But not this cat.
This cat was some sort of bastard hellspawn of a normal cat and a demon. This cat probably did not do anything so beingn and low-energy as sleeping, given that it had streaked straight up the wall of his hotel as he was exiting it, jump on him, scratched his arm all to hell, and taken off again in the space of about five seconds.
This cat was going the hell in a cage the second he caught up with it.
It may have seemed slightly degrading to some to use one's trained ninja skills to track down and trap a small, fluffy animal, but (Makoto reasoned), these were not normal cats and clearly warranted investigation. (Five seconds of investigation had resulted in him discovering that there was more than one, and that they were turning into somewhat of a plague on the city.) Normal cats were small, cute, fluffy, and lazy. These were clearly evil spirits masquerading as cats.
I think they are just cats. They are not spirits.
Makoto ignored the phoenix as it didn't know what it was talking about, and no, he was not just mad at the cat for scratching him up, that was a silly thought and the bird should stop having it.
He managed to track the offending cat down to the high-class district, the bright lights and vibrant atmosphere of which didn't much distract him. The only reason he hadn't taken a hotel room here was that he was supposed to be a mercenary concerned about his money supply; it was still a type of place he was familiar with.
Clearly the hellbeasts were a plague on all levels of Sand.
Finally, in his tracking, he caught sight of a flash of yellow fur.
Gotcha.
He attempted to sneak up on the cat, knowing that this was the one that meant his arm was (still) bleeding (he should really fix that at some point), but it froze when he got within ten feet of it. Slowly, the animal turned its head toward him and fixed him with a menacing, intelligent, and extremely catlike stare.
"Mew."
It was a tiny, pathetic cat noise, perhaps intended to curry sympathy. The fluffball did not move as he crept toward it, instead watching him with that cat stare as if asking if he was going to do anything interesting.
Makoto pounced.
The cat jumped five feet straight up, landed on his head, made a much louder, yowling cat noise, scratched him again, and took off.
Makoto abandoned all of his normal rationality, careful thinking and planning, and general sense in favour of uttering a string of curses and chasing after it.
Normally, chasing things was too much like actual work. It was one of the reasons why he did not take on bounties, as a rule. When he did, it was ones with people who could be tracked down and pinned down via careful tracking and checking into records and things.
But really? To hell with this cat. He was going to get this cat.
So it was that his first real foray into the upper-class district of Sand had him looking less like the youngest son of a noble family he was and more like a slasher manga villain, covered in cat scratches, sleeves of his clothes shredded, and of course dripping blood everywhere. It took him an hour and a half to trap it in an alley and actually manage to wrap it up in one of his spare jackets tightly enough that it couldn't move its paws to scratch.
"You are a menace," he told the cat darkly as he hauled it off to the bounty office. Now caught, the cat was back to making pathetic cat noises in vain attempts at sympathy. "You and your entire brood disgrace the name of cat."
It purred. He scowled at it and stomped off toward the mission stand.
Maybe he didn't want a cat for a pet.
But not this cat.
This cat was some sort of bastard hellspawn of a normal cat and a demon. This cat probably did not do anything so beingn and low-energy as sleeping, given that it had streaked straight up the wall of his hotel as he was exiting it, jump on him, scratched his arm all to hell, and taken off again in the space of about five seconds.
This cat was going the hell in a cage the second he caught up with it.
It may have seemed slightly degrading to some to use one's trained ninja skills to track down and trap a small, fluffy animal, but (Makoto reasoned), these were not normal cats and clearly warranted investigation. (Five seconds of investigation had resulted in him discovering that there was more than one, and that they were turning into somewhat of a plague on the city.) Normal cats were small, cute, fluffy, and lazy. These were clearly evil spirits masquerading as cats.
I think they are just cats. They are not spirits.
Makoto ignored the phoenix as it didn't know what it was talking about, and no, he was not just mad at the cat for scratching him up, that was a silly thought and the bird should stop having it.
He managed to track the offending cat down to the high-class district, the bright lights and vibrant atmosphere of which didn't much distract him. The only reason he hadn't taken a hotel room here was that he was supposed to be a mercenary concerned about his money supply; it was still a type of place he was familiar with.
Clearly the hellbeasts were a plague on all levels of Sand.
Finally, in his tracking, he caught sight of a flash of yellow fur.
Gotcha.
He attempted to sneak up on the cat, knowing that this was the one that meant his arm was (still) bleeding (he should really fix that at some point), but it froze when he got within ten feet of it. Slowly, the animal turned its head toward him and fixed him with a menacing, intelligent, and extremely catlike stare.
"Mew."
It was a tiny, pathetic cat noise, perhaps intended to curry sympathy. The fluffball did not move as he crept toward it, instead watching him with that cat stare as if asking if he was going to do anything interesting.
Makoto pounced.
The cat jumped five feet straight up, landed on his head, made a much louder, yowling cat noise, scratched him again, and took off.
Makoto abandoned all of his normal rationality, careful thinking and planning, and general sense in favour of uttering a string of curses and chasing after it.
Normally, chasing things was too much like actual work. It was one of the reasons why he did not take on bounties, as a rule. When he did, it was ones with people who could be tracked down and pinned down via careful tracking and checking into records and things.
But really? To hell with this cat. He was going to get this cat.
So it was that his first real foray into the upper-class district of Sand had him looking less like the youngest son of a noble family he was and more like a slasher manga villain, covered in cat scratches, sleeves of his clothes shredded, and of course dripping blood everywhere. It took him an hour and a half to trap it in an alley and actually manage to wrap it up in one of his spare jackets tightly enough that it couldn't move its paws to scratch.
"You are a menace," he told the cat darkly as he hauled it off to the bounty office. Now caught, the cat was back to making pathetic cat noises in vain attempts at sympathy. "You and your entire brood disgrace the name of cat."
It purred. He scowled at it and stomped off toward the mission stand.
Maybe he didn't want a cat for a pet.